


Retreat

by avanti_90



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avanti_90/pseuds/avanti_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Ar-Pharazôn's fleet approaches the shores of Aman, Finarfin and Nerdanel prepare to leave Tirion behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retreat

Finarfin stood on the summit of the Mindon Eldaliéva and looked out over the city of Tirion, gleaming like a new-polished pearl in the dawn. From the city he raised his eyes to the mountains, and through the light of the Calacirya to the ocean. All appeared quiet, save for a small dark blot visible on the distant waves.

Slowly, he placed his hands against the cold surface of the Palantír of the tower. Dark mists swirled in the depths of the seeing-stone, slowly fading into the gentle rise and fall of the ocean. The dark spot of his vision grew and grew, until Finarfin's eyes beheld a thousand ships, each with hundreds of oars dipping into the water, dark sails bearing the mark of the Kings of Númenor, each carrying a promise of death.

He took his hands away and the vision faded, giving way to the temporary peace of his city. Already crowds thronged the streets leading to the gates, following a steady procession of carts packed with food and belongings. The sight reminded Finarfin painfully of the past; at least this time their flight was well organized and planned with some degree of sense.

But as before, Finarfin would be the last to leave. "I am half-tempted to stay and offer battle," he muttered under his breath.

"No, you are not," replied his Steward. Finarfin sighed. Nerdanel knew him far too well to take such a statement seriously. Always he had shunned violence, and since Melkor's defeat he had wished for nothing more than to put the horrors of war behind him. Even were it not so, had he not learned better than to pit his own wisdom against that of the Valar, who had commanded retreat?

"No, truly I am not. And yet, to flee, to abandon Tirion to blasphemous men, servants of Sauron..." he shook his head. Had Sauron come, Finarfin thought he might indeed have offered battle, alone and with his own sword, as his brother had done. But he had not seen Sauron on those ships, and he knew it was not his fate to avenge the death of his firstborn. "Did we put all our efforts into this city, all these years, only to have it come to this?"

She looked down into the square below the tower, her hands twisting together. "Can you truly love this city, still?" she asked softly. "Can you ever walk through its streets and not see your children running upon the white stones, eating sweets from the markets, pushing each other into the fountains? Can you ever look out from your window-" she pointed down to where Galathilion bloomed above the heads of a steadily thinning crowd - "and not see _them_ , standing with red swords drawn to the sky, darkness in their eyes and in their hearts, walking to their deaths?"

"No," Finarfin answered, taking her hand in his. "Once I saw nothing else, every waking hour. But now I see also what we have built in the years since. I see happiness that has come from grief, and light that was kindled in darkness; I would not lose that light."

They stood for a long time in silence, holding hands. Then Nerdanel began to smile. "Look here, my king!" she said. "See the future that will be; indeed, light shall be kindled in this darkness, as well." Slowly, she brought their linked hands to the surface of the Palantír.

In their shared vision Finarfin saw the hill of Túna crumble and fall; he saw the towers of Tirion crushing each other as they tumbled to the ground like trees in a mighty storm; he saw his own palace, the home of his father, reduced to dust.

And then before his eyes there rose a new city, vast beyond imagining. Towers rose high above his eyes, and great trees blossomed around crystal lakes. In his mind he heard the ringing of many bells, and the sound of music and laughter from many homes, warm and welcoming, untainted by the darkness of the past.

"Have we not rebuilt this city once, my king?" Nerdanel whispered. "Who will say that we cannot do so once again?"

Smiling at last, Finarfin raised her hand to his lips. "Not I."


End file.
